


The Long Way Round

by undeerqueen



Series: The Long Way Round [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Abuse of Semi-Colons, Abuse of italics, Based on that bit in the leaked Infinity War trailer, Deathfic, Gen, Guardians are in this but the tiniest smidge so, Hurt Peter, Irondad, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, abuse of really all punctuation, like the aftermath, sorry aunt may for hurtin ya boy, this is my first fic what am i doing how do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeerqueen/pseuds/undeerqueen
Summary: Tony wants him to hold on. Peter just wants to go home.





	The Long Way Round

Hold on, kid. _Hold on_. Stay with me. _Please..._

There's a voice. Saying the same things, over and over.

Hold on, _hold on_.

 _To what?_ Peter thinks. He's floating in the darkness. It could be the abyss of space itself. There's nothing around him but soft black. It laps at him so gently, crawls over him; it's going to swallow him whole. Peter doesn't think he minds. It's peaceful here and dark. He can't remember where he was before but he knows it wasn't dark. It wasn't peaceful.

It wasn't home.

At the edges of his vision, the darkness swirling all around him, is the faintest burning glow. It's white-hot and he shies away. Something in him knows if he reaches for it, it's going to hurt him.

_Please hold on, kid._

Peter lets go.

 

* * *

 

He comes to so slowly, at first he doesn't realise he's awake at all. The darkness takes shape. It's a hard cot under his back, the exposed pipes in the ceiling above him. It's silence and the smell of copper. A warm hand clasping his limp one. Finally all the dark is gone, leaving a heavy numbness pressing him all over. He blinks and shifts his head.

The hand instantly lets go and suddenly Peter's vision is filled with another black shape. A person.

Tony, in his undersuit, leaning over him. His face is creased in concern, lacerations and bruises spreading on his cheeks and forehead. As he frowns, a fresh cut opens and leaks a tiny drop of blood. Peter follows it as it tracks a path down Tony's temple like a tear.

"...Kid, can you hear me? Hey. Focus up." He snaps his fingers above Peter's eyes.

Tony's voice sounds weird, all echoey and spacey. Peter's ears are ringing. He winces and shifts his head again, away from Tony's snapping fingers. Tony grabs his chin, none-too-gently holding him still. The tiny movement is enough to send a lightning bolt up Peter's spine that cracks through his chest and forks out through his back. He seizes on the cot.

 _Is Thor here?_ he asks himself, somewhere distant beyond the electrifying pain. _Why is Thor hitting me with lightning?_

"Thor," he tries to call out past Tony's hand clutching his jaw and forcing him still. "Make it stop, _make it stop_ ," he wheezes.

Tony isn't looking at him. He's talking over his shoulder, jaw working furiously. Peter blinks up at him wetly.

"I-I want to go home," he begs quietly, his voice vanishing in the sparks. He shudders under Tony's hand and the engineer turns back to him, enraged face melting into devastation, an erupting star spilling into the void. _He looks upset_ , Peter wonders. A particularly harsh bolt splits through him and Peter wonders nothing.

 

* * *

 

The next time he wakes, several hands are holding him on his side. He's coughing, coughing so much his ribs feel like spikes in his chest, like sticks grinding against stone. _They're going to come through_ , he thinks wildly, heart pounding. He can hardly breathe, can manage just enough sound for an agonized whimper. He wants to go back, back to the cold peace of the dark and space, back _home,_ but there's something climbing up his throat. He coughs and coughs _. I need a bowl,_ he wants to say.

Too late.

He heaves blood, watches it splatter against the metal floor with the rest. His eyes blow wide with panic.  How long has that been happening? More blood rushes up his throat, surging hot and metallic, so fast he can barely breathe. He hacks and gasps, feeling it spill over his chin and run down his neck.

There are people watching him. A woman with green skin and a tight expression. What looks like a man, covered in red tattoos, fascinated and stoic and aggrieved at the same time. A little raccoon. A moving tree. A bug lady. All standing there like statues...like they're watching over him...like...

 _Guardians_.

The word explodes in his head and with it the memories come flooding back. He remembers the alien planet, the orange dust. How he'd taunted and provoked the Titan, trying to protect Tony and allow the Guardians to get a few good licks in with their alien tech. He couldn't compete with Thanos' raw power but he could run circles around him in his new suit with his advanced webbing.

He remembers the moment he'd snatched the Infinity Stone from Thanos before he could put it in that gauntlet. He remembers Thanos' fury, his own elation, the way Tony had hollered over the comm: _"Nice work, kid!"_

Peter had been so proud.

But then his and Tony's joy had turned to horror as Thanos grabbed Peter's body out of the air before anyone could pull him clear, then smashed him into the earth like a bug.

He remembers Tony's bellow of denial more than the impact.

After a few long minutes, Peter finds he can take some hitching breaths. His vision clears as the coughing starts to abate, red dribbles running from his lips. There's still ringing in his ears but he can hear normally again. Tony is talking and so is Quill, the Star-Lord with his name.

 _"I gotta say, it's funny,"_ Peter had remarked when they met. _"First time I encounter extraterrestrials and one of them has the same name as me. Seriously, what are the odds?"_

Gently, Tony and Quill roll him back over.

Peter shudders against the cot and just tries to breathe.

"We're not going to make it in time," Quill is saying grimly.

"We'll make it," Tony fires back, not even looking at Quill, settling in his seat next to Peter like it's his second home.

"Come on, Tony..."

"Don't you have anything _better_ to do? You're the pilot of this floating trash can. Plot us a course and get us back to Earth _now_ ," the engineer demands, sounding more furious than Peter's ever heard.

Quill looks glum but it's Gamora who speaks up.

"He's not going to make it, Stark," she repeats forcefully. Tony flinches like he's been kicked. He takes Peter's hand again, calloused fingers settling on the pulse point in his wrist. Peter can only blink up at him lazily.

"How long are you going to let this continue?" she spits. "The damage is catastrophic. His healing factor is doing what it can but it's prolonging the agony. You know this. We all do. Are you going to let him suffer on until his heart gives out?"

Peter becomes aware of his heart then, as she says it. It squirms in his chest, blood thundering in his ears. Too fast, too weak.

"He's tougher than he looks," Tony insists.

There's a collective groan, noises of disgust.

"I am Groot," the tree says and sounds really sorry.

Rocket seems to agree. "Even animals don't have to go through this!"

"He fought honourably," Drax adds. "He should have dignity in death."

"The kid'll be fine. You don't know what you're talking about," Tony hisses through his teeth.

Drax says, simply, "I know what it is to lose my child."

Incredibly—so much so that it takes Peter's pain away for a moment so consumed by the sight—Tony's eyes start to water.

" _Tony_ ," he pants, his voice barely a whisper, some leftover blood wetting the corners of his lips.

From somewhere, his mentor pulls out a cloth and dabs it around his mouth, shushing him gently.

"I can make it painless," Mantis is saying now. "He would not feel a thing. Like falling asleep."

"Get out," Tony bites out abruptly, spinning around to face the Guardians so suddenly it makes Peter flinch. An armoured gauntlet is crawling up Tony's arm.

"If you have any idea what's good for you, you'll leave us the hell alone," the older man says lowly. "You let the kid take a beating for you back there and now you're hanging around like bad smells. You want something to do? How about you make yourselves _useful_ and find us a way out of this asteroid belt? Let me worry about the kid, because I can be damn sure none of you were." His mentor takes a breath, stares the Guardians out.

They look like they want to say more—Peter can see them squaring up—but Quill shakes his head. They file out, whispering and grumbling under their breath. It's just him and Tony.

"Tony," he gasps thinly. The engineer turns back around, his gauntlet gone, and patiently puts a hand on Peter's shoulder, keeping him still. "Tony, I-I remember...remember what happened—"

"Shh," Tony says firmly, wiping his face again. His hand is shaking. "Then you know it's imperative that you stay still and keep quiet, okay? Save your energy, kid. You'll need it for the trip home."

Home.

Grief rips through him then, so suddenly it takes his breath away. His eyes fill with tears, pain blending with sadness and crashing over him in great, cresting waves. He knows what the Guardians know, what Tony is mulishly ignoring. He's not going to make it.

"Tony," he whimpers, vision blurring.

Tony's breathing thinly, resolutely focusing on wiping away the blood from Peter's face. His eyes are glistening, brown depths boiling with anguish.

Peter gasps, his chest heaving, real terror coursing through him. Pain lights in him and his stomach rolls. He lifts his head, barely able to raise it more than an inch or two, and surveys himself. Tony is there, soothing his tiny pained noises and helping him to hold his neck up, warm hand cupping around his nape.

From his precarious position, Peter can see his costume is torn and dirtied. There's a towel slung over his hips, damp with blood.

To look at it, it's not much. But all the damage is internal. He can feel it. His organs are leaking, there's scar tissue building out of the trapped blood that has nowhere to escape. He's all broken inside; sensation comes and goes in his legs, his breathing is off, his hips and pelvis are _screaming_ and he flushes to think about where the blood on the towel has come from. Thanos shook him like a rag doll. Splattered him in the dirt like a bug.

His heart squeezes again and he coughs, spitting up strings of blood down his own chest.

"Oh, G-God," he grates out, eyes pinching shut. "It's bad, huh? Tony, it's bad, it's so _bad_."

"I know it hurts, kid, I know," Tony swallows. Peter knows his mentor is deliberately misinterpreting his words.

"Try to relax," the engineer urges, face tense. His fingers are digging into Peter's neck too tightly.

Peter jolts against the cot, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He takes a desperate breath, lets Tony's hand around his neck take the full weight of his head as it drops back.

"Okay, that's enough. Calm down, kid," Tony presses. "Give yourself a minute. Your super healing is taking care of everything. Just gotta give it some time."

Peter knows his healing factor can't compete with this level of damage, the all-consuming cruelty of the Mad Titan. 

He starts to drift, shock curling around him, darkness calling. He jerks again, barely able to open his eyes, and Tony is still there, easing him down on the cot.

"That's it, kid, you get some rest. You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Lie back—there you go. Alright? Good job." Tony's babbling. If he were more with it, Peter thinks it might be funny to see his usually suave, charismatic mentor stumbling over his words like a teenager. Like he's Peter himself. As it is, Peter weakly spits another thin string of blood, head rolling to one side.

Tony's hand courses through the hair over Peter's ear. "Just stay with me," the older man begs, a little breathlessly. It makes Peter's chest hurt to hear. "I'll get you home."

What home? They couldn't stop Thanos on the uninhabited little planet they dragged him to in order to keep him from Earth. He'll return for their world, Peter knows. No wonder Tony wants to get back. Thanos will crush it in his fist—just like he did to Peter—and Peter won't be able to stop any of it. He won't be able to save MJ, or Ned, or May. Tony will be there all alone and Peter can't help him.

"I couldn't stop him," Peter whimpers, distraught. "I thought..."

"Please stop talking, kid, _please,_ " Tony is demanding, shaking his head. Peter wonders if he knows he's crying. He's never seen Iron Man cry before.

"You're gonna fight him again, aren't you," he whispers and it's not a question.

Tony's nostrils flair. "I'm going to _kill_ him," he vows, fist clenching on the cot, some spittle catching Peter in the face.

Peter's heart quickens dangerously. "D-Don't fight him alone, Tony." The thought is unbearable. He knows how weak he is, how futile the whole idea is. He knows the rest of his life can be measured in the span of hours. And yet...

"I can help," Peter breathes, pulse pounding. "Maybe if..."

Despite it all, Tony chuckles, a bleak, vicious little sound. "You're done, kid. No more taking on beings of immense power for you. At least not till you've made it through college."

College? He's not...He can't go to college. What is...What is Tony talking about? His mind grinds to a halt, the unexpected thought ticking over to the beat of his heart pumping in his ears. A frown creases his face, jaw going tight. His breath rattles in his lungs.

"Kid?"

Tony leans over him again but he's swallowed by grey static that steals Peter's vision. Peter's hand goes numb in Tony's and the spaceship dissolves to the sound of his mentor yelling for help.

 

* * *

 

Someone is pacing. Metal boots are striking the floor. _Clink, clack. Clink, clack._

Peter's eyes blink open.

"He is awake," Mantis breathes. He's staring up at her face. Her antennae are lit up like tiny stars. Her warm fingers cradle the temples of his head.

The clinking, clacking noise is exchanged for a mad scrape of metal, then Tony is sat at his side again.

"There's the Boy Wonder," Tony sighs softly. He sounds wrecked. His eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. His hair is a mess. Peter wants to comment on his mentor's dishevelled appearance but he can't summon any energy; he just lies there, blissed out and cool.

"How're you feeling, kid?" Tony asks quietly. "Gave us all a pretty good scare back there."

Peter blinks at him. He watches the quiver of Tony's lip.

"Hm, yeah, I bet," his mentor says in this wobbling voice, as if Peter had answered him. "We're not far from home now. You wanna see?"

Tony shifts his chair and Peter's gaze flicks up to the open vista of Earth approaching through the window across the med-bay. He breathes steadily, eyes filling with tears.

_Home._

It's beautiful.

"I made it," he manages to whisper aside to Tony.

Tony's lips tremble again and go very thin. His face screws up like he's in some kind of agony, then forcibly relaxes. Peter smiles up at him as best he can, watching his mentor take a breath. Tony smiles back at last, tears in his eyes. Peter thinks it's okay; he's crying too, everything's so beautiful.

"That you did. Won't be long now," he says in this strange, hitched voice that Peter can barely hear.

" _Wow_ ," Peter murmurs, turning his gaze back to the little blue planet blinking from across the stars.

Above his head, Mantis says, "He is very peaceful. I cannot put it off for much longer. His body is too weak."

Tony nods like that means something. How come they're not consumed by the sight of space, by the beauty and the majesty of the Earth, gleaming in the darkness?

"Hey, kid?" Tony asks softly, sitting on the edge of Peter's cot. _He looks so brave_ , Peter thinks. _Like a hero_. Peter smiles. "If you could tell your Aunt May one thing—just one—what would you tell her?"

Peter frowns. What a strange question. "What for?"

"Doesn't matter. It's just a game. I'm curious. What would it be? One thing you could say to your aunt."

Peter thinks for a moment. It's hard. His thoughts trickle away from him like water. "I don't know...prob'ly...thanks so much for taking...taking care'a me. A-And I love you."

Tony sniffs. "Okay, kid, that's good."

He doesn't look like it's good. Tony looks weirdly upset. Peter purses his lips. "D'you wanna know w-what...I-I'd say to you?" he asks, gasping a little, thinking it might cheer Tony up.

His mentor goes very still. "...Sure, kid. If you want to tell me."

"I-I guess I'd say thank you too...f-for looking out for me and giving me my suits. A-And how you're like...you're like my favourite hero. T-The best. A-And h-how you're such a...such a good guy a-and I guess how you've been...you've been like a d-d—" His voice falls away and he doesn't know why. He's so chill, so numb. His mouth feels wet. It tastes of copper.

Tony's eyes close. When he opens them again to look down at Peter, there are tears in his lashes. One of his hands comes up, the knuckles scraped and broken. He cups Peter's cheek and his thumb is so rough and warm as he strokes the skin.

"Mr Stark," Mantis pleads.

The engineer nods, taking his hand with the one not cradling Peter's cheek. "Okay, alright. But if I could tell _you_ something, kid, it'd be that I'm so proud of you. You did good, okay? You did a good job and you can tap out now. We got you home, kid. You did it."

Peter smiles, going warm all over while his vision goes dark at the edges.

"It is happening now," Mantis says quietly. He doesn't know what's happening. Everything looks the same to him, still and quiet and calm. He'll figure out why everyone's being so weird later. Another swell of warmth rolls over him.

His gaze narrows on the blue dot fading at the centre of his vision.

 _Nearly home now_.

He can't wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *finger guns* because that's how u introduce yourself to a fandom! deathfic yes. what up im undeerqueen im 23 and i never fuking learned how not to hurt my faves.


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